What I'm Really Thinking
by Butane Baby
Summary: Vegeta's unwritten love letter to his wife, crafted beneath the stars.


**"Dreams": Midnight**

You have never known me to be a superstitious man. Of course you're probably thinking, "Tell me something I don't already know." The truth is I'm not superstitious about ninety-eight percent of the time. My mind's slavish devotion to the other two percent is irritating, but after many years I have accepted defeat. You see, I never _say_ goodbye because I always expect you to be here when I return. I always expect to return.

I suppose you would call my behavior hopeful, rather than superstitious. Maybe I will too, starting now.

Before you I did not dream. I suffered through nightmares, or my slumber was an empty hole. "Feeling rested" was foreign to me. I scoffed at it. No fighter worth his salt would allow his subconscious mind to dominate his actions. Looking back I was fooling myself, considering my obsession with showing how much I could achieve by sheer force of will. I lived to dominate, to win, to avenge. Those were my sole rewards, until your love shattered my shibboleths.

Unlike you, at first I never paid attention to the stars during my many travels. Then, you became my starlight. Every time I depart in darkness, I see your crystalline blue eyes in those luminous spheres.

You always know when I'm dreaming. You also drive me crazy when you poke at me in bed, often at an ungodly hour, to describe my "goofy smile" while I'm trying to sleep. I turn over to hide my true grin. I won't give you the satisfaction of winning, at least until your body nestles against mine. Others we know might not recognize it, but as much as my determination and power fortify me, you safeguard my soul.

I remember finding you asleep once in your lab. Your hair was strewn across the drafting table. Grease marks lined your face and clothing. The disorganized stack of papers underneath your head was a substitute pillow, apparently. It was difficult to suppress my laughter, but I did. Whatever you did must have been fun, I thought. I always love seeing you like this. I leaned over to kiss your temple until your eyes opened. You scolded me, which I expected, but you should be accustomed to my admiration. Seeing you in your natural environment is what first attracted me all those years ago. Your drive to achieve matched mine. Your father was the first person who noticed my observant respect. He said as much in his absent-minded manner, even though I was a bullheaded, demanding asshole otherwise. I'm still curious if he sensed a future for us early on. Clearly, he was just as insane then as we were.

"Why me?" isn't a concern I dwell on much anymore. Questioning our bond insults those who have graciously allowed me to live. Now, I am merely grateful and humbled. At my core, I am a reserved, introspective person, and I always will be. That part of my personality has never discouraged you, though. We may have argued about countless issues before and after we married – sometimes quite bitterly - but you have never, ever mocked that side of me. My arrogance and peevishness, however, were fair game, and you found every opportunity to challenge them. You still do. Oh, boy. Each time I sputter an over-the-top boast or complaint, there you are, prepared to stomp on it like a hapless, cornered cockroach - all the while smiling beautifully. Along the way, your influence helped reshape and broaden my beliefs about my sense of pride. Now, I take great satisfaction in teaching and encouraging others to exceed my accomplishments. That said, I don't make it easy for them. I take pride in that too.

Right now I'm overwhelmed. That happens more often than you might realize. I have fought for you and our children. I have fought for this world that became my home after years of mourning mental and spiritual losses. I am honored that you recognize my sincerity now, after I failed you more than once. I look forward to many more years together as your husband and friend. I will do my damnedest to ensure it.

* * *

 **"It's This": 1 a.m.**

"Vegeta?"

"Hn?"

"How long are you staying outside tonight, babe?"

"I don't know, Bulma. Maybe until sunrise."

A capsule burst on the ground next to him. "Well, if that's the case, here's a sleeping bag."

"I don't need one."

"Who says it's for you?"

"Woman, are you going to talk or join me in this thing? I know you're cold. Give me your hand."

"Wow, you're being a real gentleman tonight. What's the deal?"

He looked down, hiding an amused smirk. "You asked me to be more romantically spontaneous beyond having sex."

"That was five years ago, Vegeta."

"I have been perfecting my techniques," he said, pulling her closer. "Feeling warmer now?"

"Your body is like an inferno. It doesn't take long. So what's kept you out here in the woods thinking?"

"You have been here all of five minutes, Bulma. Nothing is wrong, if that's on your mind." He lifted her chin. "But if you must know, it's this."

"What?"

"Peace… and the stars."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading.**


End file.
